Preface – 352 is a main road that runs parallel to the side of our property.  I bought the house without even noticing it was there.  I am not sure what this says about me, as EVERY POTENTIAL BUYER who has seen our house says: “Love your house; concerned about road noise.”  This unexpected roadblock (ba-dum-tish) inspired the following poem.

352: An Ode to a Road

Your paved beauty stretches long and wide

Near our house, not in front…

Just on the side.

 

Lines of yellow on concrete black

Transporting travelers

To West Chester and back

 

Your quiet hum, low din, serene

Lulls us to sleep

As the day gets lean

 

Who would not love you, dear 352?

Alas, picky home buyers

That’s precisely who.

 

“A Curse!” say those who have come to see

Our house so clean

And priced accurately

 

Don’t they know? White noise calms the mind!

Brookstone even sells it

For $129.

“C’mon, lighten up! Gimme a fist bump!

What’s wrong with a little bass?”

Thump thump thump thump

 

What about the ‘hood? Our neighbors are great!

But oh no, it’s the road,

On which they fixate

 

The yard, so private, a wide expanse

But goddamn the school bus

That rattles our chance

 

My mom says, “Distract them, that will work, you’ll see!

Pipe in some musak!

Maybe Lionel Richie?”

 

But the buyers still hear you outside the door

“Hello?”

“Is it me you’re looking for?”

 

The feedback forms all say the same thing:

“Your house is a gem,

But that road makes our ears ring.”

 

What in the world is a seller to do?

I am losing my patience…

Damn you, 352!

 

I’m a slave to this house -PLEASE, NO MORE CLEANING!

I feel like my life

Has lost all other meaning

 

So screw this! I’m done! You are making me mental!

To Massachusetts we go

And our wood-paneled rental.

 

I blow kisses from the window, as I scrub the grout,

Farewell, 352-

This is not working out.

 

You will find love again, and we will be spared,

Perhaps some city folk

Or the hearing impaired

 

Until that day, our lonely house will sit

Still filled with the furniture

Our tiny rental can’t fit.

 

All thanks to the road that just will not quit

Thanks a lot, 352

You stupid piece of……

 

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